Hanging by a Moment
by wazlib88
Summary: "Before he could dwell on it, he cautiously captured her hand with his own and interlocked their fingers. He could have imagined the way her eyes lit up as she squeezed his hand lightly, but Ron didn't really care - he was simply happy she allowed him to hold her hand at all." A Shell Cottage outtake.


A/N: This is a result of a request from andwereallundertheupperhand on tumblr. :) I've only ever written post-DH before, but here it is - a short Deathly Hallows missing moment. Even if it's been done a thousand times before, I had fun writing an outtake for the first time in awhile. Wowza. Also, obviously the title is a song by Lifehouse. Try not to judge me for being cliché.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the queen and I'm just the court jester.

* * *

They'd been stuck at Shell Cottage for two weeks. It was hard to believe, really, that two long weeks had passed since the worst day of Ron's life to date - just edging out the day he'd made the biggest mistake of his life, of course. Things were starting to return to some semblance of normal now. They were eating full meals courtesy of Bill and Fleur's hospitality, Harry was splitting his time between brooding and planning, and Hermione, like the incredibly strong woman she was, had begun to recover from the hell she'd been through. Ron, however, was quite sure he'd never be normal again.

He was in love with Hermione. There was no point in wording it differently anymore, no use pretending his feelings could be defined with phrases like "my friend Hermione is pretty," or "I think I'd like to go out with her sometime." Any pretense of it being some sort of crush flew out the window the moment he'd been forced to helplessly listen to her screams. That wasn't when it had started, though. He supposed he'd been in love with her for ages, really. He could just never bring himself to admit it, and even now, he wouldn't dare say it out loud.

She was almost all he thought about lately, during the times that he wasn't worrying about his family or the war. Things still weren't right between them; they hadn't been for some time. He'd apologized, and he was pretty sure she'd forgiven him, but they weren't like they were before. He wasn't sure if they even _could_ be the way they were before. At any rate, something was off, and he couldn't stand it any longer. That was why, when he saw Hermione slip out of the house to get some fresh air after breakfast one chilly Wednesday morning, Ron decided to throw his misgivings aside and follow her.

He found her sitting against a very old tree stump a couple hundred yards away from the house, staring out toward the sea wearing a pensive expression. He coughed loudly once he was within earshot, not wanting to startle her, but she must have heard him coming - she simply turned to offer him an easy smile.

"Hi," she greeted him in a small but bright voice.

"Hi," he replied, awkwardly gesturing at the ground next to her. "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all," Hermione said warmly, patting the space next to her.

Ron sank down to the ground, adjusting himself so that he could feel her body heat next to him without invading her personal space. "How are you feeling?" he asked tentatively.

"Better," Hermione said honestly. It was a sign of just how serious her condition had been that she did not roll her eyes or insist she was perfectly fine.

"Fleur said you're going to stop taking the pain potion soon," Ron remarked.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "I'm doing well with the smaller doses now, but once we're out there again, I won't want to be taking it if I can help it."

Ron frowned. "You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm capable of, Ron."

"I know," he said hastily. "It's just...this has all been fucking scary, you know? I mean, being down there-" He broke off, shuddering.

Hermione's expression softened visibly, and she laid a shy hand on his shoulder. "I'm okay, Ron. Honestly."

"But you weren't." Ron sighed heavily, leaning into her touch a bit and hoping beyond hope she wouldn't withdraw her hand straight away. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Hermione said tenderly, rubbing his shoulder just enough to drive him mental.

"No, but I should be the one comforting you," he groaned. "What you went through, Hermione-"

"Was horrible," Hermione finished emphatically. "But it's over now."

"Is it, though?" he asked, turning to meet her eyes fully for the first time since he'd sat down next to her.

She bit her lip and looked away, hesitating for a moment before answering. "I hope so. I don't know," she replied in a trembling whisper.

Ron stared at her for a moment, debating. He knew she'd been having nightmares. He'd sat with her several times the first few days after they'd arrived, and he'd seen her shake and sweat in her sleep, but there had been nothing he could do to comfort her without feeling as though he was overstepping some sort of boundary. Instead, he'd asked Fleur to provide her with a potion to induce dreamless sleep. Fleur told him it had helped, for which he was grateful - but once they left, even that small comfort would be gone.

He wasn't sure if he should say anything now. She didn't know that he knew, after all, and he doubted she'd want to talk about it. Hermione hated feeling weak, he knew that much. So instead, he shifted so that her hand fell from his shoulder. He wasn't sure whether or not he imagined the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but before he could dwell on it, he cautiously captured her hand with his own and interlocked their fingers. He could have also imagined the way her eyes lit up as she squeezed his hand lightly, but Ron didn't really care - he was simply happy she allowed him to hold her hand at all.

"Thanks," Hermione said quietly. She hesitated for a moment and looked at her feet before continuing. "You've been lovely these last few weeks, Ron. I don't think I say it enough."

"You don't have to," Ron replied dismissively, and he meant it - he hadn't done anything that somebody else wouldn't have, after all.

"Yes, I do," Hermione insisted, speaking very fast and refusing to meet his eyes. "I just - with everything that's happening, I think that I should tell somebody if they're important to me, and you're somebody that's important, and I don't think I say it to you enough, but it's true."

"You're important to me, too," Ron said immediately, squeezing her hand firmly as a grin spread across his face. It didn't matter, really, how exactly she meant the comment. If she only wanted him as an important friend, that was alright - for now, at least.

Hermione finally raised her eyes toward his, a genuine smile dancing across her lips. "Do you remember what you said to me last year, after I altered my parents' memories?"

Ron searched his thoughts quickly. He clearly remembered holding her while she cried, whispering comforting words into her ear, but what exactly had he _said_? He shook his head slowly, hoping she wouldn't be disappointed.

"You said that no matter what happened, we'd always have each other," Hermione clarified, and Ron was relieved that there was not so much as a trace of annoyance in her expression.

"I sort of fucked that one over, didn't I?" Ron said deprecatingly, a humorless laugh coloring his words.

"I wouldn't say so," Hermione told him sincerely. "We've got each other now, haven't we?"

Ron simply looked at her, hoping that she would understand the sincere apology and unspoken promise in his eyes, because he didn't think he could say it out loud and have it mean half as much as it ought to. This time, he was pretty sure he wasn't imagining what he saw in her expression. There was no hurt in her eyes, no malediction. Maybe he could allow himself to believe that she'd really, truly forgiven him. Maybe, they could finally be how they were before it had all gone to hell.

"We'll be okay, yeah?" Ron asked then, seeking some sort of reassurance in the face of all they were up against.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed quietly, fixing her eyes on their joined hands. "I think we will be."

"Look, Hermione, when this is all over-" Ron began, searching for the words to tell her without _really_ telling her. "When it's done, I still…you know, want us to have each other."

"That's what 'always' means," Hermione told him, squeezing his hand again. He returned the favor, and they smiled at each other broadly.

They sat there hand-in-hand another half an hour, simply enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence. There was nothing more to be said anyway, Ron reckoned, other than the things that he knew couldn't be said. Now wasn't the time to tell her. The time would come, and soon, but they had so much left to do, so much more to accomplish. They had to either win a war or die trying, and Ron resolved to fight like hell to make sure it wouldn't be the latter.

Eventually, Harry came looking for them, talking intensely about their plan, and their moments together had to end for the time being. But Ron could sense that something had changed. Some sort of wall had been broken down, and they seemed to be headed down a road that would lead to its demolition. Maybe they could be how they were before. Or maybe, just maybe, they could be even more.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! :) I realize it was probably very similar to the other Shell Cottage moments out there, but I had fun writing it nevertheless. It was a nice break from the chapter fic I've been immersing myself in lately, and like I said, I've never done anything other than post-DH before.


End file.
